All Hallows' Eve
by Foodwise
Summary: Just a bit of Halloween fluff. AU in which Sara never died. Eventually first in a series.
1. Chapter 1

**CSI:LV, T, Romance/Family, Eli Trent & Sara Sidle  
**

**Disclaimer: CSI, its characters, places, and situations are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This story was written for entertainment not monetary purposes. Original characters, and this story, are intellectual property of the author. Any similarities to existing characters, fictional or real, living or dead, are coincidental and no harm is intended.**

**Just a quick Halloween fic, you will only understand what it's about if you're familiar with my other stories, if you're not I advise you to simply not read it, it won't make any sense. I have written snippets of what would have been had Sara never died now and then, since I was never able to let the initial idea go, despite the route the story took after 'Mistakes'. I just haven't had much time to write lately and this just came to mind when I scrolled through all the Halloween related posts on Tumblr today, so I thought why not give it a chance to publish this one as a first in what might be a series of Alternate Universe fics set after 'Mistakes'. It's rare I just have something flowing out so easily these days. Enjoy while it lasts. Will be two or even three parts, since I won't manage to finish today. Completely unedited, pardon any and all the mistakes.**

* * *

**All Hallows' Eve**

_"Ah, fu-fudge."_

_You hiss, the sharp intake of the cool morning air almost making your teeth hurt, but your focus is on your palm. It pulses as you cradle your left hand in your right, the carving tool responsible clattering onto the wooden floorboards of your back porch, along with some drops of blood._

_A head, hair still damp and curly from a recent shower, peeks out between the sliding glass doors while you still ponder how to get inside without bleeding all over the carpets._

_"You okay?" Sara's voice is still rough from sleep, but surprisingly calm as she takes in your state._

_In two long strides she's beside you, prying your fingers off where they press on the cut while you look up at her, apologetic, all of this early morning work was supposed to be a surprise._

_"It's not too deep, I don't think you need any stitches, but we gotta get this bandaged." She casts her eyes over towards the table, where your sorry excuse for a Halloween pumpkin, already hollowed out and with holes that, if you squint real hard, could resemble two eyes and the beginning of a toothy grin sits, a basket with lots of smaller ones in all shapes, sizes and colours beside it._

_All she does is smile._

_You rip off your beanie and carelessly fling it onto the couch as you cross the living room, blood flow now dampened by a kitchen towel Sara hastily retrieved and guided by her gentle, yet insistent touch you make your way up the stairs._

_The white bandage is a stark contrast to your tan skin, it's been a long, hot summer and you spent so much time outside like you haven't until you've been a kid. _

_Soft lips cover your own and you're grateful for two more minutes of quiet._

_"You needn't have done that. We've already decorated yesterday, the costumes are ready and there's a butt load of sweets in the bowl by the door already."_

_Her mouth is still close to your own and you can smell, taste the minty toothpaste on her breath as she speaks, breathe in the hint of vanilla of her body wash and you want to stop time. _

_"But I wanted to do this. I kinda promised, I guess, I just thought it would be easier, I haven't done this since I was little and it's always been my father who did the carving. He was real good at it. I'm just really not talented. At all. I wanted him to have a Jack O'Lantern outside the front door tonight, it's the best part."_

_She runs a hand through your rapidly graying hair, smoothing it, and smiles that indulgent smile you love so much. Like you're the strangest creature on this planet sometimes, an oddity, but the most beloved one she could ever imagine._

_"I love you."_

_When she kisses you again, time does stand still. She's still in her robe and slippers and you wear rough cargo pants and work boots, a woolen sweater and she's soft, so soft under your touch that like so many times before you wonder how you ever managed to get so lucky to have her in your life._

_An insistent knock on the bathroom door instantly stalls the movement of your hand inside the robe, but the hitch in her breath your touch caused is still hanging between you, sweetly, a promise, momentarily postponed as..._

_"Mommy? I really, really need to pee."_

_It's amazing to watch when Sara switches from woman, gasp breaking from her lips just seconds earlier and longing in her eyes into Mom, gathering bloody kitchen towels, bandages and tape swiftly and locking the medicine cabinet again safely before shoving you towards the still closed door, behind which your son is hopping from one foot to the other with both his hands holding his crotch._

_"Urgent, urgent..." He moans as he pushes past you and slams the door, not even stopping to acknowledge that both of you just emerged from the room._

_Bedazzled you look at each other before breaking out in wide grins._

_Your uninjured hand cups her jaw and you lean in for one more quick, yet all the same heated kiss._

_"Thank you." You whisper, your touch lingering, your fingertips reluctant to leave her skin, but you know your usual morning routine has just begun, like any other day and there's not really time left to dwell on what you'd rather be occupying yourselves with right now._

_"Tonight?" She mumbles onto your lips and again you grin._

_"Oh yes, Mommy, we'll do some trick or treatin' of our own."_

_Her eyes are alive with mirth and a fire you never wanna see extinguished in them._

_"Mmmhh, I like the thought of that."_

_You quickly calculate the hours that lie between the right now and the moment you'll finally be able to sneak away from the annual SFPD Halloween ball without appearing impolite, and smirk before stealing one more kiss.  
_

_"I'm looking forward to what you're going to wear this year."  
_

_Sara bites your lip just hard enough to make you groan.  
_

_"You'll like it."  
_

_"I'd never doubt that."  
_

_Reluctantly you part then, glances still locked, at the sound of a five-year-old clearing his throat beside you._

_"Can I have eggs instead of cornflakes today?"  
_

_You ruffle his hair before scooping him up easily, and he giggles into your neck all the way down the stairs as you tickle him.  
_

_" 'Course you can. Scrambled?"  
_

_"Uh huh! With lots of cheese!"  
_

_He draws out the word and you laugh, peeling your sweater off before opening the fridge, sticking your head inside.  
_

_"Good morning milk, good morning eggs!"  
_

_"You're weird, Ma."  
_

_"Guh!" Feigning shock, you holler. "Sara, our son thinks I'm weird!"  
_

_"Well, sometimes you are." It resounds from upstairs.  
_

_Again he giggles.  
_

_"You're talking to the food."  
_

_"I did, didn't I?" You shrug your shoulders as you start piling up ingredients on the kitchen counter. "So I guess I must be a little weird."  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_After waking up is before breakfast and after breakfast is before wrenching a struggling kid already high on the thought of tonight's mischief into the safety car-seat, after dropping him off at pre-school is before a workday that needs your full commitment and concentration, after lunch is before tons of paperwork in your brand new position as Detective Sergeant and when you finally make your way over to the CSU lab your legs are already kind of heavy and the two paper cups in your hands feel warm and promising. One is taken from you with a peck to the cheek and a sigh, and you smile when Sara takes a long swallow. How she manages to not even look remotely tired (at least to you, she gets up in the mornings nowadays complaining about dark circles under her eyes regularly) is a mystery you have yet to solve._

_"Ready?" She just asks you while she puts the cup down, jotting a few notes onto the whiteboard and nodding towards her right hand, CSI level three August Channing, a handsome lad in his thirties, who pushes some papers over, reminding Supervisor Sidle to sign off on them before she leaves for the day._

_These are the moments you feel oddly pleased at how far the both of you have come after having moved to Frisco for good seven years ago, despite the changes in your personal life that simply have to happen when you're becoming new parents. SFPD was accommodating enough, either of you took some parental leave after Ben was born, and you circumvented any hitches in your careers by remaining as dedicated as you've always been and doubling your efforts at catching up after your breaks. Of course there have been rough patches, Both of you struggled with the idea of a nanny, and as much as you love your kid, some days it's just not a job where you can jump off your chair when the clock strikes four-thirty, some cases require much more time and effort than you were sometimes willing to give to them with the little one in mind, but then, you take your jobs and what depends on you doing them good and thorough seriously, very seriously. A compromise was found in a grandma that is hands down amazing with your son. She's softened, she's wiser and more patient, less demanding, yet still perfectly capable of keeping up with Ben from the very beginning._

_The first time you came home to Anna softly singing your son to sleep, her fancy blouse ruined by stains that screams vomit, but such a serene look on her face it gives you pause and makes you think back to your own childhood and wonder how she'd been when you were his age, a time you just can't recall. Cannot for the life of you remember her being anything but prim and proper and not lulling a toddler to sleep with 'Feed the birds' from Mary Poppins. It made you cry. Made you recall rainy Sundays when you were just a kid yourself, huddled up on the couch, tucked into your father's side, one of the few occasions he wasn't wearing a suit but simple khakis and a polo, hot cocoa on the table in front of you and your favourite movie on the screen. It made you feel at home, safe and secure, those memories of some of the happiest moments in your life. One of the reasons why you own a movie theatre. Why it was that movie you watched with Sara that one rainy night which feels like so long ago already, when your life has changed so much since then._

_You're pulled out of your thoughts by Sara nudging your ribs, pointing at her wristwatch with a raised eyebrow. _

_Nodding, you automatically pick up her cup while she swings her leather bag over her shoulder, waving a short good-bye into the break room in passing._

_"Yeah, sorry, ready." You finally confirm.  
_

_"Where did you go to just now?" She asks you curiously as you're walking down the staircase, not taking the time to wait for the elevator._

_You grin and deflect a bit, after all it is Halloween and you plan on an evening of fun and not of melancholic reminiscing._

_"I was thinking that Julie Andrews might have been responsible for me turning out so epically gay."_

_Sara's airy laugh is like a balm covering all the rough spots on your soul, and you relish in the sound._

_"Mary, huh?"_

_"I guess she was my childhood crush, before I even knew such a thing existed. Then I watched 'Victor/Victoria' when I was a teenager and it was all over for me. If I'd been James Garner, I wouldn't have been able to resist her, either. I, too would have fallen at her feet and worshipped her."_

_It's bemusing that Sara almost trips on the last three steps as you utter this confession. She stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning towards you._

_"I'm neither blond, nor that petite, nor British. How do I fit that type that manifested so early on in your life?"_

_You smile down at her, knowing she isn't insecure, is not really wondering, just pushing your buttons. Yeah, and maybe even Sara isn't above fishing for compliments from time to time..._

_"You're you, Waves. Once I met you, I wouldn't have deigned looking at Julie again. You were it. You are it." _

_In the lot, just before you offer to take her bag and deposit it on the backseat, you catch her hand and lightly kiss the back of it. "But then again, did I tell you just how much I loved Katherine Hepburn, too?"_

* * *

_Ben surely is already shuffling his feet, just fifteen minutes until you are supposed to pick him up, he knows how to read the clock and he insists on your punctuality, throwing minor tantrums every time one of you is late despite your best efforts to get off work in time and beat afternoon traffic in San Francisco. Just like you're trying to right now, a hair's breadth away from making improper use of your siren._

_You barely manage but do arrive in time, and strapped securely into his seat he instantly babbles away, about how the small cake for lunch had a pumpkin face on it, about his drawings and that they were told a story that was just a bit scary before naptime. That Melinda even started crying though it really wasn't that scary after all. How he obviously can't decide what he's looking forward to more, going trick or treating with you or the prospect of spending the night at his grandmother's, though the mansion still at times a bit intimidating to him, the sheer size of it and all the empty rooms that apparently have no purpose other than housing lots of stuff that reminds gran of a gramps her never got to know and generally times that long came and went. _

_The drive home definitely appears shorter with the little chatterbox behind you, and seriously, you don't want to know how he managed to figure out how the complicated straps open, but he's out the car door the second the wheels have come to a complete standstill and the doors automatically unlock._

_Running up the gravel drive, his satchel bopping up and down on his back, he turns to you._

_"Ma, Mom, come on, I'm hungry and I want to be ready before Ethan and Fahid arrive." _

_He's already by the door when you lock the car, and of course Sara overhears the quiet groan you're emitting at your kid's unwavering euphoria today._

_"Genes, Sweetness. I already knew what was coming when he was still inside of me. He's so unmistakably yours, don't pretend now you didn't know what we were in for."_

_All you can do is return "You convinced me, very sneakily I might add."_

_For a split second the answering smug smile on Sara's face is for once not so very attractive to you, until it is again._

_You throw your hands up in surrender._

_"Yeah, I knew. And I love it. I'm just not getting any freakin' younger."_

_You square your shoulders, lace your fingers with the ones seeking out your hold and both of you trot up to the front door to join your impatient, tapping his foot in irritation, slightly frowning son._

_"Hold the horses, Mr. Overeager. We'll get it all done in time."_

_Once the lock clicks open, he's already pushing between you and flying up the stairs._

_"Oi! What's the first thing when we arrive home?" Sara shouts after him._

_"Wash our hands." Comes the sullen reply._

_"That's right!"_

_"I'm on it. What's for dinner?" Comes the disembodied voice again.  
_

_Sara faces you, shaking her head. "So what's for dinner?"_

_With your eyebrows drawn together tightly, you think of a quick dinner choice, but can't stop your next words._

_" 'Oi'? Seriously? I should have never let you watch Dr. Who in the first place."_

_While Sara has the decency to blush, you yell "Mashed potatoes, carrots and fishfingers with gravy, how 'bout that?"_

_Ben bounds down the stairs again, pumping his fist into the air when he reaches the bottom._

_"Yes! Favourite dinner."_

_Making your way into the kitchen you scratch your head._

_"You say that about almost every kinda food I bring on the table." You wink at Sara who is, ever the good example, washing her hands in the kitchen sink. "That, by the way, must be my genes too. That kid just about eats everything. No diet restrictions whatsoever."_

_The splash of warm, soapy water hits your glasses spot on._


End file.
